


Not Gruesome, Just Human

by shauds



Series: Shield [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Gen, He's got issues, but he cares so much, is my jam, jason taking care of abandoned kid heroes, kit is way too traumatised, mentions of torture, no editing we die like our dearly beloved jason todd, tags be added as story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22821364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shauds/pseuds/shauds
Summary: Jason avenges the death of a teen hero who'd once been his friend and in the process, he just happens to prevent the death of another one. That's all well and good, but it's been a while and the kid still hasn't left, doesn't seem to have any plans of leaving, and he keeps asking if Jason wants to talk to dead people.Whatever, at least he's not preachy.Kit Freeman just wants to figure out why Jason did it, and he'll admit its nice being around someone who is expressly not using him for his powers.
Relationships: Eddie Bloomberg & Kit Freeman, Jason Todd & Eddie Bloomberg, Jason Todd & Kit Freeman
Series: Shield [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640641
Comments: 49
Kudos: 111





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I like stories where Jason rescues or takes care of young heroes, and there's a distinct lack of them, so I'm once again writing my own >:P.

At the start, Kit had tried to count out the how much time he’d been down here in the sixty-six intervals, but he’d lost count of those long before he stopped being able to hold on for sixty-six seconds. Apart from the times he was moved, and his human body forced into it by chemicals, he never slept, so he couldn’t try and keep some semblance of time that way. It was just one endless, uncountable second after another.

Calculator would walk in, “Let me see my boy,” he’d say. Kit would try to confer that he couldn’t, Calculator would take away the glass of water he’d balanced on the arm rests he’d bound Kit’s arms to, and there’d be pain until Kit could force himself to summon Marvin. Then Marvin would fade away too soon for his father’s liking and it would start all over again.

Kit knew trying was counterproductive, that every time he said he couldn’t, but managed it, Calculator was more deeply convinced that Kit’s refusal was born from defiance or spite and not the deep set weariness that he surprised himself by overcoming the times that he did. 

Kit expected it would end only when he joined Marvin himself, back in the afterlife. He expected that this time, he’d stay there. Kid Eternity had never really figured out how to really be a part of the Teen Titans, and trying to, going out for a night that wasn’t work related, when most of them had been ‘creeped out’ by his presence, was what had led to this. It led to Calculator with a fist full of Kit’s hair, screaming in his face, another fist ready to come down.

”Bring him back, **now**!” Calculator screamed again, warm spittle from his mouth hitting Kit’s cheeks.

”Eter…” Kit coughed and considered what would happen if he just decided not to try anymore. Death really wasn’t anything so bad as this, if he changed his mind, he could always find his way back, even without the lords of order…

” **NOW**!” The fist crashed into his face again, knocking back Kit’s head hard against the hard metal back of the chair, pushing any thought out of it and filling it back up with nothing but white hot stars of pain. “You’ll do it this time, you **will**!”

”Eternit… et…,” he couldn’t, even if he found the power, his throat, dry and swollen, wouldn’t speak the words, he was… the fist was coming down again. There was screaming and blood splattering against Kit’s face.

It didn’t hurt, he thought for a moment that maybe he’d finally reached the threshold, the maximum amount of pain a human could feel and now it couldn’t get any worse. In another moment he realized that it didn’t hurt, because this time, he wasn’t the one screaming, wasn’t the one bleeding either.

”Hey there.” The man’s voice was light, conversational even despite the robotic lilt to it and the still smoking gun he held up to the bright red helmet covering his head.

Calculator lay on the ground, blood blossoming from a shoulder wound to further stain his already blood stained shirt. “Who the hell…” His question, again in that demanding voice, turned to a piercing scream when the newcomers boot stamped down on the shoulder wound with a heavy _thump_ and an audible crack.

”Who I am, who sent me…” The man trailed off as he knelt down, nonchalantly grinding his boot into the Calculator’s shoulder and eliciting another, albeit softer, more pathetic should from Kit’s captor as he pressed down more and more of his weight on the wound. “None of that matters, all that matters here is what **you** ,” he tapped Calculator’s nose with his gun, eliciting another pained groan to go along with the sizzle of burning flesh, “went and did to bring me here.”

Calculator’s attempt at speech was cut off again by a sharp, “Uh-uh,” and more pressure being applied to his shoulder. The man pulled something, a piece of paper from some inner pocket of his leather jacket and held it up for calculator to see. “You know this kid?” The masked man asked as he straightened Calculator’s shattered glasses.

Recognition brightened Calculator’s eyes and he looked up at his attacker. “Those **heroes** killed my **son** you would never unders…”

”Shut up!” The masked man said, his tone no longer conversational in the least. He dug his gun into Calculator’s forehead, he dropped the picture to the floor, Kit’s chest seized when he found he recognized the image too. “M’not looking to understand why you did what you did, or, what the hell, for **remorse** from so spineless and **disgusting** a thing as you.” He leaned down so Calculator’s horrified expression was reflected in his mask. 

”I’m here cause you made a big, **fucking** mistake going after **that** kid, the **one** target that would piss me the **fuck** off.” He roughly jabbed his gun against Calculators head. “A whole team of little superheroes to choose from and you,” another jab, “picked”, and another, “ **him** ”. **_BANG_**

It was so loud, Kit wondered how he hadn’t heard the first shot, he watched the blood leaking from the small, neat hole in Calculators head, saw the blood pooling under him, and felt the spirit leave the body to join with the countless others surrounding them. Intangible, incorporeal, then gone.

Kit might have felt such relief maybe once in all of his lives, he didn’t even care what became of him now, it was over, all of it. With the pain in his bones and the burning in his soul, Kit wouldn’t have minded if the gun were turned on him next. 

But the masked man did no such thing, for the longest time, he stayed where he was, shoulders shaking, but no sounds making it past his helmet. Kit might well have not been there at all. That was fine, he didn’t mind in the least. Blood kept spreading along the floor, the man kept shaking. Kit stared ahead of him, his eyes still held open by the clamps couldn’t turn from the now blood soaked picture on the ground.

He couldn’t be dead, he’d been fine when Kit had last seen him, that last night he’d seen he’d been fine, he’d… not Eddie. Kit’s eyes were too dry for tears, but that didn’t keep the rest of it back, and the sob Kit let out hurt him worse than anything the Calculator had done to him in all the time he’d been trapped in this room.

At the sound, the man started, his head swiveling around the room as if he hadn’t noticed there was any occupant other than himself. A guess that was proven true when he seized upon facing Kit.

”Shit.” He raised his gun, and Kit braced himself for the impact, but the weapon wasn’t pointed at him, instead the man stopped just short of running it along his own head, like he’d just remembered he had the weapon in hand at all. He looked down at the gun, then back at Kit. “Shit.” He repeated and stowed it away.

The contraption holding Kit’s eyes open wasn’t so much disengaged as it was ripped apart to get it off his head as fast as possible without damaging him further. His head fell to his chest immediately, eyes falling shut now for the first time in… in so long.

”No, fuck.” The words were harsh, but the hands that found Kit’s face were, while not gentle, still careful enough that they didn’t cause him any pain when they raised his head. “Hey Kid, eyes on me.”

It was all Kit could do to shake his head and force one more whispered word through his dried up throat. “Please.” He couldn’t, whatever it was this man wanted from him, he couldn’t do it. There was just nothing he could do anymore.

The man didn’t try to make him. Soon the restraints were off Kit’s wrists and his ankles and he was pulled out of the chair set down on the ground like this body was something fragile and not something that had held together far longer that it should have. Blood rushed back to the damaged, disused limbs and Kit couldn’t even muster a cry.

”Okay.” The calm, almost comforting tone was quickly offset by a litany of rather creative insults and curses directed at the man lying dead on the floor not two feet away, most of which Kit couldn’t hope to make out. Hands ran along his body, pressing down on joints and bones, angered hisses and raised curses serving as a running commentary on what damage the stranger found on Kit’s body. He might have pulled away, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

”Fucking, middle of nowhere, god forsaken shithole, desert, fucking psychopathic bastard…” It continued into what Kit would guess were curses at their location, Kit felt himself lifted and draped across the man’s back. “No Fucking doctors and…” it carried on a constant stream of words, some barely intelligible as he was hauled away.

The air smelled like blood and sulphur, the latter of which set Kit’s tearless eyes burning anew. Dead. And the rest of them too? But no, it had been about Eddie specifically, the **one** that would piss him off, so, it was likely just the one.

Gone. It hurt, trying to think of it, death wasn’t supposed to hurt him anymore. He wished he could sleep, that he could just shut down, just for a little while, if he’d been human, really, he was sure he would have. But sleep wouldn’t come to Kit, no matter how much he might have wished for it. The only rest he got was in finally being able to keep his eyes closed, the softness, of the body he was pressed against.

The man carrying him away kept talking, angry and loud and course, but he didn’t do anything to try and get a response, didn’t make any demands.

There was a _whoosh_ of air, dry and hot, then the sun on his face.

”S’fine,” the man said, his tone calmer but somehow far away when he paused his movement and Kit felt something brushing against his face, just soft enough that it didn’t agitate the swelling that covered it, then softly, but with as much feeling as any of the rage fueled screaming Calculator had directed his way, “ **fuck**.”

And they were moving forwards again. Kit still couldn’t find it in him to want to open his eyes and look at it, but now at least, he could feel the sunshine on his face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's just keeping the kid until they reach a town, really.

Any other time and it might have meant something just how much of his Robin training Jason was drawing on. Wound assessment, first aid, removing the victim outside of the room with the dead body... Even the signs he knew look out for to tell whether he was being comforting or encouraging a panic attack. None of that had come from any of the other upstanding teachers Jason had had the pleasure of learning under during his formative years.   
  
This case was surprising in that the comfort thing was almost the easy part. There was no fighting or screaming either when Jason did his quick triage or carried the kid away from the fucked up torture chair at the bottom of that creepy dungeon, not even when he cut away the ragged onetime white clothes to get at welts and swelling that needed to be cleaned and dressed. Instead the kid leaned into his touch, keeping his eyes closed and his mouth shut but for the soft cries he let out when the antiseptic hit his skin that were what a slug would sound like if it crawled across salty sandpaper.

  
And Jason wasn't supposed to be imagining dumb shit like that, he was supposed to be  **working** on a fucking trauma victim.    
  
There was a soda in the car, flat and hot and more water than soda courtesy of the ice that had had long melted, Jason had picked it up on his way here and promptly forgot all about it. He kept one hand cradling the small part of skull that wasn't swollen - and again Jason cursed this damned middle of the middle of nowhere desert, a kid died of brain damage in his stolen car today there was gonna be hell to pay - the other set the straw of the drink against the kid's dried, chapped lips.   
  
"Thirsty?" It was a grounding question, there for the sake of engaging the victim, not for actually getting an answer. Of course he was thirsty, Jason could tell from his skin, his eyes, his heart rate, he was worse than just thirsty.   
  
But with the simple question came the first signs of resistance the kid had to give, shaking his head and trying to pull away from Jason. Tucked into the back seat of the car, it didn't do him much good, but it did catch Jason off guard and likely aggravated his newly dressed injuries.   
  
"Can't, please, jus le me rest, please." His eyes squeezed shut even tighter - hopefully there was no permanent damage in that area either, but there was no way of knowing - and now he was trying to do an impression of a scrawny armadillo. Which, yeah, fractured bones, no doctors around, so  **not** good.   
  
"S'not exactly ambrosia but it's all I got, c'mon kid, just try a little sip, it'll make you feel better." Jason did his best not to box the kid in too much, be gentle when he used his free arm to keep the kid still. It'd hurt no matter what he did, but it was better than what all that flailing around could have done. "One sip and you can rest as long as you like."    
  
Jason lifted one of the kid's hands, it was stiff and bloody, but unlike the other one, nothing in it was broken, and curled the fingers round the plastic takeout cup, giving it a little shake.    
  
There was hitch to his breath, almost a sob, but not quite, when the kid took hold of the cup and brought it slowly, so slowly to take his one allotted sip, then another, even more hesitant this time. It didn't seem to be hurting him, but Jason still watched closely as the cup steadily emptied, just to be on the safe side.   
  
"There ya go." Jason patted an unbruised area of the kids arm, kept his hand there when he turned his attention past the open door at the smoke curling up above the scrappy building he'd left behind.    
  
It didn't look like anything was about to swoop down and investigate but that's wasn't to say nothing was coming. For a hot second, Jason considered finding a patch of shade and propping the kid up there to wait for the eventual investigators. Almost thought he might have done it too if only there weren't a good chance that the first people to show up were going to be that scrawny rat bastard's asshole friends, or even that it might take days and days for anyone to show up at all.    
  
He wasn't quite heartless enough to leave a kid to that sort of fate, drying out in a desert all alone, and besides, he'd already put in all this work when the plan had called for getting out of their the second Calculator had a nice new head decoration. It would be a waste to just throw that away after he's already taken the risk.   
  
A soft churning alerted Jason that the soda was finished but the kid was still trying his to get more to come up through the straw. Huh, so much for can't. Jason took the cup from him and easily fended off the weak hand that tried to grasp it back.   
  
"Good job kid, but it's finished now, any you needed to rest, remember." Jason said and tosses the plastic out of the window, and the soft, defeated groan that pulled out of the kid made Jason wince. "We'll come by a gas station in a couple hours and you get whatever you want then, okay, just…" Jason waved his hands around, then remembered the kid's eyes were still closed and the gesture wouldn't do any good. He sighed. "Just try and take a nap or something in the meantime." He softly ruffled the kids hair before he could think better of it, he was like seventeen, did seventeen year olds still like hair ruffles?   
  
Whatever, the kid leaned into it, so it was probably okay, they'd reach a town soon and someone who actually knew what the hell they were doing could take over. Someone who hadn't shot a guy in front of him. Yeah, Jason snatched his hand back, he hadn’t done so well on the checking for victims front that  **had** been drilled into him by some later teachers.   
  
Before they set out, Jason made sure the kid was sprawled out as comfortably as he could be across the backseat. No seatbelt because he just knew that wouldn't go over well, but he fashioned some pillows out of a couple hoodies, that would help a little, right? He'd just be sure to drive  **very** carefully. It’d be fine.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kit's in shock but, at least physically, he's been through worse and Jason's love language is food.

It was an odd feeling, to be mourning the dead again. Kit supposed that was what this was, it had been so long since he’d felt it that he couldn’t be sure anymore. The dead were never far from him, hadn’t been for almost as long as he could remember. All he had to do was speak the word and there they’d be, nothing to miss, nothing to mourn, no point in grief.

And yet, even with that, the thought of the picture, the splattering of blood vivid now in his mind as they hadn’t been at the time of him actually seeing it. Thinking of **him** wandering Eternity, Hell possibly, it called to Kit for mourning all the same.

He didn’t know how to deal with it.

Conversely, everything about the rest of it, when he pulled his mind to less confusing things, Kit found nothing but soothing.

The constant movement, the stuffy, sticky heat, the juxtaposition of the rough car seat against the soft, downy feel of the fabric his head rested against. The strong, harsh smell of antiseptic against mixed in with that of greasy fast food. Even the rare swerve or pothole that jarred his many injuries only served to remind him that there was reminding to do, because it was no longer so constant, to pressing and inescapable as it had been. All of it was that reminder.

And all it had taken was that blood splattered photograph of someone who shouldn’t have been dead.

Kit didn’t speak, he didn’t open his still burning eyes, it didn’t seem there was a need to, the man certainly didn’t.

Every so often, the man would reach back, his gripping Kit’s wrist, pressing against his pulse, and he’d mutter to himself, sometimes harshly, sometimes wavering and soft, about Kit’s condition. That simple action, the tone in his voice even when Kit couldn’t quite make out what it was he said, out of everything, that soothed Kit most of all. It turned aside any less savory reasons an angry, vengeful man might have removed Kit from the situation. Why else he might have put so much care into treating and attempting to comfort him – and there were, in Kit’s experience alone, many such reasons.

If, when, more likely, the man asked to speak with Eddie again, perhaps to relay the news of his vengeance, Kit would oblige , though the thought of another summoning seemed to burn his very soul. He would at the very least make an attempt to and hope what favor this man showed him now would continue on if it took Kit a while to manage it.

It was rather obvious by the efficiency, the lack of hesitation with which he’d made his kill that the man wasn’t one of those ‘ _heroes_ ’ Kit had tried to join himself with. If he were, with those methods Kit might have heard of him, in his perusing of the Titan’s files or his conversations with Marvin; a habit he didn’t imagine he’d be picking up again, even the thought of trying to call up the dead boy again was… and ah, there was that feeling again. Though mourning a death this long after the fact was even more of a surprise than the one he’d just learned of. And there he was, thinking of Eddie again.

His thoughts circled round in this way, repeating, stuttering forward and stalling while his body knit itself slowly back together.

Eventually the car stilled with a soft squeaking of the breaks. Kit was still exhausted, burnt out in ways he didn’t have words for, mentally he tried to prepare himself for what he knew would be asked of him.

”Hey kid, we’re here, anything you need? Bathroom, a popsicle, maybe you wanna stick your head out the window and get some sun?”

”Hn?” Even that small sound scraped at Kit’s throat, and he let his eyes crack open just enough to see the blurry shape of the man reaching back again, this time to press a hand against Kit’s forehead.

”No fever, but’s hot, bet you want a popsicle anyhow, right?”

Kit squinted at him some more, set his own unbroken hand against the one on his head and waited a little while. There wasn’t much reaction. “Thirsty?” He croaked out when it became evident that these questions weren’t rhetorical. Vaguely he remembered something about a gas station? A town near it where the man would leave him?

”Yeah, I’ll getcha a couple. Do something about your eyes too ‘f I can.” The man’s hand slipped out from under Kit’s, moved up to run it along his hairline line one might do to a child before it retreated. It was odd, but the gesture was gentle, comforting, and Kit found for that, he welcomed it. “Don’t try wondering off on your own here, right?”

There was no pause for a reply, just the open and shut of the door and the man was gone.

Kit shortly turned his eyes to follow and yes, it was a small, isolated gas station they’d stopped at only half a dozen or so other cars in the parking lot and refueling. A quick testing of the doors found them to be unlocked and the windows slid down to let in more of the warm air at the turn of a switch. Nothing to keep him caged inside the car, and as far as Kit was willing to watch, the man didn’t pause in his journey away from it.

The picture, lying innocuously on the front passenger seat caught his eye when he turned from the window. It was the same one as before, Eddie, in the demonic red form Kit had never seen in person, grinning in the company of his teammates – still splattered with his murderer’s blood.

Kit flinched from the sight, shut his eyes and covered them with the arm Noah Cutler hadn’t crushed under his shoes. So, he had until that town to recuperate then. Maybe not all that much, but it was more than the last man he’d used his powers for had given him. Maybe doing it would even ease some of the… of the grief he felt himself. 

Tentatively, Kit felt out along the lines, they were frayed, worn down from too much use, but still there, still open to him should he choose to call on them, though the very idea of doing so right then had dread pooling behind his bruised rib cage. That would pass, he made a stride in convincing himself, and all it would take was some time. 

Before he knew it, the door was opened and the man was back in the car, the rustling of packaging accompanying his return.

”Right.” He said, and the rustling moved to the unoccupied flooring of the car at Kit’s feet. “We got some water, ‘n some juice, sports drinks, crackers, bagels… oh,” he paused and there was some louder crinkling to go along with something cold being pressed into his hand, “ there ya go popsicle, try and get that down ‘fore it melts all over the place.”

While Kit didn’t strictly **need** the food; the various drinks were a huge relief, the cool ice spreading across his palm even more so. When Kit lowered the hand to squint at the brightly colored packaging, the man plucked something from off his shirt, and slowly, as if afraid of starling Kit, held it up for inspection.

”Think these’ll do you some good?”

The frames of the shades were a glossy, gaudy shade of red, the glass wider and darker than he was used to, not at all like the pair Kit had lost and even those hadn’t been all that special, just sunglasses. A silly thing to be so grateful for, still…

”Thank you.” Kit accepted them in the same hand as the popsicle. They didn’t entirely remove the harsh stinging in his eyes, but the shades at least spared him the agony that otherwise came with opening them more than the bare minimum. For the first time since he’d been brought to the car, Kit could really get a good look at his surroundings.

”Sure kid.” The man was already riffling through the bag he’d set besides himself on the passenger seat. “Come up with anything else you need ‘fore we hit the road again?”

”No.” Kit shook his head and used his teeth to tear off the packaging and get at the frozen mango favored substance in his hand. 

”Right.” The breath the man let out as he pushed a fist full of his dark hair back and settled into his own seat sounded spoke of more relief than Kit would have expected on his behalf, even if it was that something was expected in return. “Gonna need to drive a little faster to reach the town in time to see a doctor, so you’re gonna have to buckle up.

”I don’t…” Kit had to paused to clear his throat when it decided at that moment to let out a low scratching sound in place of his voice, “don’t need a doctor,” he finished. “Healing fine.”

The man looked him over skeptically in the rearview mirror, his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek as he thought, and it in that moment it occurred to Kit that his rescuer might have been quite a bit younger he’d first assumed. Only slightly older than the Titans, than Eddie had been. Another odd revelation, and Kit was less sure how he felt about it than he had been about any of the others, whether he felt anything about it at all even.

”Meta? We’ll see how you are when we get there,” The young man started up the car. “Try and relax, eat something for now, we still got a couple hours ahead of us.”

Kit just nodded and turned his focus back to the popsicle, not bothering to correct the term when it was accurate enough to fit the situation. This was already better than he would have expected, better than would have even hoped for not half a day past.

If to mourn for the dead was unfamiliar to him, feeling guilt for one he hadn’t played the slightest part in was totally alien to him. His sight drifted back to the picture, now partially covered by a paper grocery bag, and he thought again, ‘ _At what cost?_ ’


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kit doesn't like hospitals, he asks Jason if he wants to see his dead friend. Jason doesn't take it well.

The kid was adamant on the whole no doctor's front. Where he'd seemed mostly coherent, if quiet - though that wasn't something Jason could blame him for - once he'd gotten some more fluid in him, when Jason had tried to lift him out of the car and get him to the small barely-a-hospital in this small, barely-a-town, he'd fallen back to very much **in** coherent babblings a platitudes.

It was worrying, and despite the kid's insistence that he was healing fine, healing much faster than Jason would have expected from a normal human, he'd give him that, it still wasn't enough. Even what little Jason could see with his nowhere near experienced enough eye, it still looked like Jason had a corpse bundled into the back of his car. Weak, and thin and and so obviously having been kept teetering on the edge of living and dying, having been kept that was for an extended period of time and just recently come out on the right side. It had been a while since Jason had felt compelled to check him for a pulse to be sure, but this wasn't the kind of thing Jason felt qualified to deal with.

Not like he was going to drag the kid kicking and screaming into the ICU though. Aside from all the trouble it was likely to cause for his cover, there was also the matter of reopening wounds, aggravating fractures and the, rather less altruistic, fact that Jason had just dragged this kid out of one prison, he wasn't going to toss dump him into another.

So, going against the half remembered - a lie he told even to himself, it wasn't the kind of thing one forgot, and it was becoming clearer every second he listened to the laboured breathing in his back seat - training that had guided his actions thus far, Jason booked a crappy motel room for the night. It promised privacy, had a blocked off parking lot right outside the door for easy transferring of his passenger into the room where he could more accurately assess the situation. Jason figured he'd deal with whatever else he was going to to tomorrow.

"In and out," Jason mumbled, hefting the scrawny, hoody wrapped bundle of a boy from his backseat for the second time that day, all elbows and raw enough to fall apart even if he wasn't all that heavy it was no easy task, "shoot him and leave, but, no, he had to be a fucking **sadist**." If Jason had known what he was going to find down there, he would have…

He set the kid down on the rooms single flowered patterned bed in the only slightly smoke scented room. He was still holding onto an empty water bottle, his bony fingers digging into the flimsy plastic like his life depended on it. For a long time it may well have, Jason wasn't sure he wanted to know **how** long.

"Hey, Kid, you awake?" Jason nudged him lightly, not expecting an answer.

He got one in the form of a groan that might have been made by gravel being ground up by a bus and the kid's head tilting towards him, eyes still hidden by his shades. "Now?"

"'F you're up to it," Jason replied, resting a hand on the kids forearm, he seemed to like that, "We gotta give you a check up, maybe get you cleaned up an you can go back to sleep.

"I don't sleep." The kid grumbled and sat himself up, holding swollen hand protectively to his chest.

"Uh, huh." Jason bit back a yawn, feeling much like he'd never slept in his life right then. "Think you'll be okay to wash up now, or you wanna try that tomorrow?"

"Now." The answer came too fast given the state of him, but again, given the state of him it was also easy to understand being in a hurry to get everything from that bunker off him.

"Right, wait here, 'm gonna get some supplies from the car."

Some time later, the kid was all cleaned up and, Jason was repeating the process he'd carried out just that morning, only now he had more space, more time to make sure he was doing amore thorough job of it. His bruising wasn't melting away, instead only blooming into ever more vibrant patterns across far too much of his skin, and Jason had to remind himelf that that was good, all part of the healing process, all he could do about it was toss the kid a bag of ice while he focused on the rest.

"You're pretty easy to work with for someone who hates the hospital," Jason told him as he tore a strip of medical tape with his mouth.

"I didn't need it," At least he looked guilty about it while he obediently held his arms up so Jason could tape the bindings around his ribs in place, "You don't need to do this."

"What I don't need is to have to drag you into that hospital with a punctured lung tomorrow morning," Jason replied, he tapped his patient's shoulder, letting him know he could drop his arms, which he did with obvious relief. "Almost done, just that hand now."

Instead of relaxing, that made the kid tense up, a tremble passing through the swolen had he let Jason turn over in his, despite how carefull Jason tried to be. "How bad does it hurt." Jason asked, "Think you need something for it?" Jason didn't have anything stronger that aspirin in his travel first aid kit, but that hospital might wind up of use afterall if they proved neccessary here.

The kid shook his head, swallowed thickly. "No."

"Okay, try to relax." Jason said. There was no way to wrap a sprain this bad - Jason was hoping it was a sprain and nothing was broken, it really was too bad that whatever kind of meta the kid was, he didn't come equiped with x-ray vision - but Jason tried, and that counted for something, right?

It didn't take long to finish up the job, and there wasn't a peep out of either of them in all that time. Something else that went against the rulebook, it was easier for a trauma victim to relax with a chattier caretaker to put them at ease, but Jason couldn't come up with much else to say nothing he thought his patient wanted to hear at least.

"There, all done." Jason shirped when it was over, he didn't miss the way the kid tensed up all over again, not good for those ribs, while Jason set about putting away his supplies. "Here." He tossed the kid a clean shirt, well, cleanish, it still carried light hints of the gasolene that hadn't been stored far from it in the trunk.

"What now?" the kid asked, his voice level, but carrying a resignation that felt entirely out of place. 

"You sleep," Jason paused in his arranging of his left over bandaging's in their dedicated pockets,"Or… don't sleep if you weren't just bullshitting me, turn on the TV," He snatched the remote from the far side of the nightstand and set it down on the pillow besides the kid, "or, listen to it, f'your eyes're still bugging you."

"And you?"

"I'm hungry." Jason said.

"You don't want to see him yet?"

"See who?" Jason zipped up the bag, he wondered if there was still some food left in the car, going all the way out to find a store felt like too much work for something that didn't come out of a vending machine. Maybe some takeout? But that would take too long, he'd just check the car, he hadn't noticed the kid eating much, which, great, now there was something else Jason had to worry about.

"Edward Bloomberg."

"What?" Jason spun to look at the kid, who flinched back, holding himself like he expected to be hit, and Jason quickly drew away, putting some distance between them. It took Jason a while, to put together what he'd said, because no one ever called him that. **Edward** ; Eddie had complained once, that his full name made him sound like an old man, back then, he'd much preffered 'Gopher' over everything else. Jason felt a pang in his chest when he wondered, if his old friend was still going by that when he'd… "You knew him?"

"We were **Titans**." There was some lilt of dark humour in his eyes when he said that word, like he knew a joke thay wasn't funny, but he'd gotten anyway. It didn't linger, his features soon shifting back to the trepidation that had been set in place before, "I can only do a few seconds now."

Do what? Jason wanted to ask, but he remembered something from before, when he'd first blown his way into that bunker, the insane screams of his target tearing their way through the halls. Jason hadn't paid them much mind then, he hadn't been thinking about anything but putting his bullet where it belonged, it hadn't mattered what the target had been screaming about, but now…

' _Let me see my boy,_ ' screamed furiously at the helpless boy Jason hadn't even noticed and, ' _Those **heroes** killed my **son** '_ fit together a whold lot better.

"You're a shapeshifter?" He tried, with the state of Noah Cuttler, Jason wouldn't have put it past him to delude himself into believing something like that was the real thing. Wouldn't be the first time a guy who thought he loved his kid thought beating the snot out of him was a good bonding activity.

"No" the kid who'd gotten more than just the snot beaten out of him said, "I'm… you didn't know?" He slipped down his shades, peering over them at Jason with untrusting eyes that were, without any obvious indication of why, otherwordly. "I can bring him back from Eternity, for a while, his soul."

Jason was going to say no, it was there, waiting at the back of his throat, only it wasn't going to be **just** no, and whatever else came out with it, it wasn't something he should have been saying to this kid right now. Crazy as everyone thought he was, he wasn't that far gone yet.

So Jason didn't say anything, he tossed the bag over his shoudler, and he walked out of the room, went back to the car so he could throw it in the trunk, slaming it closed with all the force he could muster, he stood there, his hands pressed against the cool metal while tried to relax calm himself. And what if what came out hadn't been no? And Jason used that terrified kid the same as **that** piece of shit bastard down in the bunker had?

Weary, Jason found himself dropping into the front seat, guilty fingers reaching for the picture he shouldn't even have had. He'd found it on a library computer, printed it out, on cheap copypaper. Eddie's grining face, he looked so dfferent, Jason doubted he would have recognized him if he'd happened to come across him, was splashed with his murderer's filthy blood.

Jason smiled, but there was nothing positive in the tight, bitter expression.

He was under no illusions that this was what Eddie would have wanted, hadn't been for even a second since he'd made his decision, tracked down his target, planned the take down and carried it out. It was what Jason had wanted, when he'd crawled out of his grave like the monster he'd turned out to be, but Eddie was different, he'd been good, he must have stayed that way, gotten what he'd always wanted and become part of a superhero team. That was… it was good.

"I'm sorry," Jason told the blood spattered ink that couldn't even hear him, not even sure what he was sorry for, not for putting a bullet in Noah Cuttler's forehead, that part was for sure. Not for staying away once he'd come back, Eddie wouldn't have wanted anything to do with him, not any more than anyone else from Jason's past life had. Maybe for being the way he was, that he'd made himself into something who did those things Eddie would have hated? But really? Jason wasn't sorry for that either. He was sorry that he couldn't be.

But really, what did it matter? Jason could be sorry as sin, it didn't change anything. Eddie was dead, and he'd had plenty of friends who were mourning him in a more acceptable way, who deserved to mourn him, who'd actually known him. Jason didn't need to talk to him, to disturb him whereever he was, he knew exactly what Eddie would say to him if given the chance.

Jason took the ciggarrete lighter from the car, watched the red glow of it illuminate the the picture in it's flaming orange glow, making it look like the kids smiling back at him were burning up even before Jason brought it close enough to set the paper aflame.

"Goodbye, Gopher." Jason said, he watched the boy who had once been his friend burn away, his cheeks coated in a salty wetness he refused to acknowledge. "I saved someone…" He tried belatedly, "maybe he was your friend? But I didn't know when I…" But all he was left with were ashes and embers and the dying glow of the embers.

It didn't matter, it wasn't like a picture could have heard him, and Jason was too much of a coward to face to any version of Eddie that could answer him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't really work in it here, but in one Kid Eternity run, Kit had a really bad experience in a hospital that involved being strapped down and very not HIPPA approved things done to him. I figure he wouldn't enjoy going back to one.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason still doesn't want to see his dead friend, and Kit gets some pie.

After his sudden departure, the man returned once to silently place two bottles of water on the nightstand besides Kit, then he left and stayed away at all that night. He didn't leave the motel, or if he did, he didn't use the car, Kit knew that much because he'd trained his ears on the vehical for a good few hours. Leaving Kit unexpactedly alone. It occured to him that that had been the plan all along, leaving Kit behind, most likely it had originally mant to be the hospital and this room was a compromise when Kit had refused. There was only one, single sized bed, and it was on the bed he left Kit, no couch or even a chair for another person to spend the night on, not ideal for a two person stay.

Now Kit ran his mind through the few short conversations they'd had and the man's solitary mutterings, there hadn't been any mention of what would happen to Kit after they'd reached the town they were staying in, and Kit had just assumed that once they were far enough removed from the Calculator's location, he would ask, and then… Kit hadn't ever seen that reaction to a revelation on his powers.

They unnerved people, made them avoidant, sometimes even violent, rarely he'd find those in awe of his abilities. No one had ever shut down the way that man had and just left. He hadn't known, and so he couldn't have expected it of Kit, then… **why** hadn't he left yet?

When it was light out, the room's door swung open, the man turned his squinted, dark circled eyes about the room, and seemed surprised when they landed on Kit, still on the bed exactly where he'd been left the night before.

"Up for breakfast?" He asked, brandishing a crutch it was unlikely for him to have gotten near the motel. So he had left last night, and Kit just hadn't heard it. "Thought you migh be tired of being carried around."

Kit wasn't, but he accepted the crutch anyway. The man stayed close by, an arm outstretched within reach of Kit as they left the motel.

*******

The diner is unexpected. It's packed full of loud people, the constant clinking of silverware and the hum of conversation punctuated by the occasional shrieking child. Kit, swimming in clothes that were several sizes too big for his slender frame, with no shoes and looking exactly like he'd been held in an underground bunker for… he still didn't know how long it had been, couldn't have stood out more.

"Cherry, really?" The man looked on Kit with disgust he didn't make the slightest attempt at hiding as soon as the waitress had departed with their orders and a moderately concerned frown.

"Is there something wrong with cherries?" Kit asked, stirring a third packet of extra sugar into his iced tea. He might not have ordered anything, but the man had insisted and so, acknowledging a pointless battle when he saw it, Kit had complied.

"It's the **worst** kind of pie." The man huffed, as if this were information Kit should have known beforehand. "The worst kind of anything really, everything it touches tastes like cheap ass energy drinks."

"Or the flavour improves an otherwise cheap taste." Kit watched the grains of sugar swirl about and dissolve in the amber tea before him. There wasn't tea in Hell, at least not the parts of it he'd hung around in, who knew what the lower levels held. There'd even been a court case down there not so long ago if he remembered correctly. 

The man hummed at Kit's reply, but didn't have one of his own. Kit stole a glance at him over the rim of his glass, looking for... something that made some sense now that his original understanding of why the man had done all he had had been proved false. 

Now, he didn't look all that different from many of the diner's other patrons, there were a few out of place scars, but most of those could have been easily explained away if one had the inclination to try. He was chewing on the straw of the milkshake he'd finished not a minute after it had been brought out, gazing listlessly at the replay of a baseball match that played on the TV of to the corner.

He didn't **look** like someone who'd just tracked down and shot a supervillain in the head then carried his captive on out as an apparent after thought.

"What?" The man grumbled, turning his reddened eyes on Kit who perhaps hadn't been quite so subtle in his examination. What he did look like was someone who needed to sleep.

"I don't understand why I'm here." Kit told him, using honesty in the lack of any reason not to. "If you didn't want me to call on Eddie," Kit didn't miss the attempted suppression of a flinch at the name, "then what **do** you expect me to do?"

"Do what ever you like," the man cleared his throat of the tremble that escaped with his voice before continuing, "long as you don't go and die after all the effort I put in, I don't care." He sighed and slumped into the cushioned back of the booth. "You were part of that hero club, you wanna call em or your very responsible guardian?" Here he smiled as though he'd told himself a joke, if he'd been even a little less exhausted, Kit might have found it funny too. His last guardian had, after all, been a demon who'd left him to rot in Hell. "I got half a dozen burners for you to choose from."

The Titans though… Wondergirl at least, now that she was the only one left there who if he made her uncomfortable, she hadn't shown it. Maybe it would help, to know why none of them had come, if he'd been missed and someone else finding him first was just happenstance. "I suppose I **should** call the Titans."

"Uh huh, great." The man was looking at the TV again, seemingly more relaxed than he'd been before their conversation. "We'll take care of that after breakfast."

That… didn't exactly work to dispel the sense of confused uneasiness clinging to Kit.

"It wouldn't have to be… him," Kit avoided uses the name of the **him** at the last moment, remembering the man's badly suppressed flinch from earlier. "I could call on anyone."

"Yeah, you have fun with that." The man swallowed, that tension making a come back, " **I** am firmly in the camp that the dead should stay that way, let 'em rest in peace, huh."

Kit frowned, he felt along the frayed lines, found the broken one hanging from the man seated across him. He debated, for a while, whether or not he would call out the hypocrisy in that statement. He drank his tea, and let it be.

*******

After breakfast, and once Kit had the promised phone in hand, the man made a poor excuse and left the table, leaving Kit alone with the dial tone and the crumbled remains of his cherry pie.

It took a while for the call to connect and when the answering click, sounded, Kit almost had to bite back some disappointment at not hearing the voicemail Eddie had set up in the interim, not even that remained.

' _You've reached the Teen Titan's, if this is important, talk fast, if it's another prank call, we **will** trace it and you won't like what happens._' Wondergirl's voice sounded out, and Kit quickly let go of his disappointment.

"This is Kid Eternity." Kit said, mindful of the public space and keeping his tone low despite how loud everyone else was being. He didn't get the chance to say much more.

' _Really?_ ' She asked him, suspicion weaved into her tone, then she carried on as if he'd already given her an answer, that tone immediately warming to him. "Oh my god, we haven't heard from you in forever and you left so suddenly, where have you **been**? So much has happened since you left, I don't even know where to…' she paused, abruptly cutting herself off, ' _Eddie's…_ '

"I've heard." Kit finished the statement for her, pushing down his own, still unexpected grief, ignored the admission that she hadn't known what had happened to him. "Very recently."

' _So, that's it,_ ' He could hear her the small, sad smile she would be wearing on the other end of the line, ' _Are you coming back anytime soon, if I said we couldn't use you right now, I'd be a huge liar. There are some new people on the team, maybe you'd get along with them better_?'

That was an option Kit would have, quite possibly **should** have chosen; if it weren't for the fact that using those powers now, especially to the extent that would be required of him in battle… The idea of battle itself, now, when his bones were still cracked and his flesh raw and aching whereever it could… For all that he'd offered it to his rescuer, even bringing forth deceased loved ones for his 'fellow' Titans as he'd done before in his attempt to curry favour with them tugged at his innards so harshly it left him ill.

That another of their enemies might try to use him again… It was still better than being alone, wasn't it? A look outside the wide windows of the diner showed him that the same, plain blue car that had carried him from his isolated, painfull captivity to this bustling diner still sat empty in the parking lot. 

"No," he said it simply, and steeled himself against the suprised intake of breath that got him. As much as he'd wanted to be a Titan, tohave the familiarity and sense of belonging he'd heard there was to be found there, he wouldn't. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."

' _You haven't bothered me,_ ', she laughed then, softly and with only a little cheer, 'It was good to hear from you again. But you'll let me no if you change your mind about rejoining?'

"If I do," he replied, knowing it was never going to happen.

' _I've got a training session to lead soon, so I guess this is goodbye._ '

"Goodbye." Kit set the phone down on the table, the device having become so much heavier than it was.

*******

"You forget something?" The man asked, rolling down the window Kit had been tapping incessantly with his crutch. "Should you even be walking on your own."

"You said to do whatever I wanted." Kit hadn't exactly come with anything **to** forget. He took advantage of the open window and tossed his crutch over to the backseat, then slipped into the passenger's seat himself and buckled in.

"I thought you called your Titan's friends." He was still looking at Kit ike he was a fish that had miraculously grown legs and hiked all the way into the desert with the express purpose of getting into his car.

"I did." Kit didn't bother to correct him with the fact that it had been only one friend. "They're doing well."

"And…" The man pressed, still blinking wide eyes at Kit.

"What?" Kit replied, his eyebrows raised, then he reached into the backseat in seach of any uneaten snacks from the day before. The pie had given him something of an appetite, despite him not needing one.

"Shouldn't you wait here for them to come and get you?"

"No." Kit had located a pack of untouched crackers and settled in as he tore them open.

"Fine." The man sighed and turned the key in the ignition, thankfully able and willing to give up on his pursuit of this particular knowledge. "Don't tell me, bad of an ideas as this is, far be it from me to leave a kid on the side of the road, but 'f you're gonna be sticking around, you gotta give me something to call you."

'Kid Eternity' was on the tip of his tongue, but if he wasn't calling on Eternity now, then… "Kit," he said instead, a simpler name one much easier to live up to.

The man barked a short laugh as he reversed them out of the parking space. "That's cute." He offered a hand. "Jason."

Kit let himself smile and clasped the hand in his own, **Jason** didn't pull away when the touch lingered, and Kit was the first to pull away. "Where are we going?"

"Got something to pick up in Metropolis, an then…" he waved his hand vaguely at the road again, "who the Hell cares hopefully you got somthing better to do by then."

Kit nodded and crunched on one of the bland crackers, his head halfway out of the open window to catch the breeze as they drove off. He still didn't understand it, but he would, if it took him the whole drive to Metropolis and then some to find his answer. Until then, he was going to enjoy his freedom as much as he could.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know it's another WIP, but working on something new is better than not working on anything at all, right?


End file.
